Killer Dreams
by MikoNoNyte
Summary: Shadow Hearts 3: Dreams of a Killer.
1. Killer Dreams

Killer Dreams

He'd never gone begging for it, not since he'd first picked up a knife. But here he was, following in the footsteps of – what amounted to a well-spring of sexuality – and he wasn't getting any. The blue-clad demi-goddess ahead of him walked with all the coolness of an ice maiden straight out of those Viking myths. Not like the other one, the crimson-clad whore from Chicago. Now _her_ he'd like to tumble, offering her a choice between roughnesses; had in fact dreamed it the other night while listening to her breathing in the chair next to his – the soft susurration and the rise and fall of her bosom giving rise to his own personal brand of sex fantasies. He's smiled to himself most of the night after seeing that vision of loveliness next to him and dreamed of banging her good. _Ah, what the fuck, she was probably as cold as she was lovely, but Lady now..._

His thoughts went skewing to the left, tripping down a path he'd wandered before; well-worn in fact by now. The two of them, naked on a bed in some hotel, his body – hard and strong and firm, hovering over her like a vulture and she – opening to him, giving him everything he wanted, needed, desired, until there was nothing left of her or him. That was the part that usually had him sitting up with sweat dripping down his face, the end of his life, his existence, in the cold arms of Lady. He didn't fear death, oh no – he sent enough people to Death's realm that he was sure he'd be made a prince of Hell when he came knocking. But oblivion? Why did fucking Lady always end in oblivion?

_Because she'd blast my sorry ass to atoms and that's a fact,_ he thought. _Might be fun, but damned sure it's a one-way trip. _

So now, walking behind her, watching the gentle swish of her fine ass, and smelling the tang of her - no longer masked by the overpowering scent that was Edna _Good riddance, bitch!_ – he let the tantalizing thought once more play through his mind. He could do it here, now, right beside that pillar. Or beside that stone wall. Or damnit, right here and now on the ground... _Just let me fuck you, damn it!_ The heat of the South American Summer was sweltering and the underground caverns were stifling, and his body – hot, sweaty and –damn it! – ready for sex, was yearning for some body to body action. But no! No, he had to help her, protect her and stop that little dwarf Gilbert from even _thinking_ of putting his mutant hands on her. And the violence of the thought made his body pulse even tighter and his groin ached for the fulfillment he knew he wouldn't have today.

_I gotta kill me somebody ... and soon._


	2. Killer Persuasion

Killer Persuasion

San Francisco, CA

I had that bitch pinned beneath me, her silky skin soft to the touch; the satiny sheen of her dress a silken caress on my leg as I pushed her down. She was breathing hard, her breasts rising to strain against the thin material and I could see her nipples rising as her interest peaked. Yeah, deny it all she will, but she wanted me. She wanted what I had in my pants and I was gonna give it to her.

With one hand, I held her wrists tightly to the pillow above her head and slid the other hand up her thigh, my rings catching on her stockings and rending them even as my fingers lifted the soft material of her dress. She protested, rising against me with teeth snapping, her legs twisting and turning beneath me. But her struggles opened an opportunity and I took it. I jammed one leg between both of hers and shoved, opening her up like a birthday present. I grabbed a handful of her crimson dress and ripped it away from her, the sound of tearing cloth sending shivers down me in anticipation of another kind of sound. I felt myself getting harder and my own need pushing against my pants, and took a moment to release the pressure, showing the bitch what she was in for. Yeah, she squirmed some more beneath me, her eyes round as saucers and beginning to tinge to crimson.

I reached up beneath the tatters of her dress and ripped aside her panties, running my ringed fingers over her, feeling her warmth and her moisture and I brought my finger to my mouth and sucked her in, tasting her.

She struggled some more, her legs kicking out, but I pushed them up and back, pinning her tighter beneath herself and then grinned as I pushed myself in. She protested loudly now, screams and growls like a beast in heat as I rutted the bitch. She felt good, hot and wet and full of tingling energy – I wondered if it was the malice or just the way she was. I didn't have long to wonder as I exploded within her, sending my 'fuck you bitch' to slick her insides and an answering explosion came from her. I found myself on the floor, writhing in pain, my erection still there for her to see and it felt – it felt _good_! It felt better than any blast I'd ever had; that bitch screaming on the bed, her eyes bleeding crimson energy, her body arched in pleasure and pain – oh yeah, I fucked her good!

Later, she wouldn't talk to me – not like I cared. I stood by Lady watching as Edna made her way to the ferry, her steps tentative, wobbling. I wondered how much was the malice driving her or my splitting her insides like a melon. Across the bay was Alcatraz, her destination. I looked down at Lady and asked if we should follow. She stood cool and silent, eyes seeing into another world. Yeah, I fucked Edna, but it was really Lady I wanted. I'd have her too someday.


	3. Killer & the Skinwalker

Killer and the Skinwalker

Hmph, so that's the one. Looking at Lady with eyes of hatred. I don't know why, but she hates Lady. heheh, Like I care.

I stare across the distance at her, giving her an appraisal that I'm sure sets her teeth to chattering. But she doesn't see it. She's interesting to look at, not like the voluptuous Edna. She looks firm and ripe - like good fruit. The boy standing near her shouts her name as she tries to reach Lady. We're standing far enough away, on a billboard; what does the silly bitch think she can do to reach us here? Shania. Her name is Shania.

"Lady?"

She ignores me, her crimson eyes staring blankly at the hotel, the party there with Edna and Capone. Stupid Italians.

I watch as Edna summons a gate and feeds on its power, changing into … well whatever it is, I ain't gonna fuck it! But eventually she dies, bleeding her heart out for that damned Mexican. I bet he had her too, but not like I did. I feel my lips pulling back in a smirk as big as Texas; yeah I plugged that bitch more than a dog in heat. Hahahah It isn't until later, as we cross the desert in the dark, that I think of her again. Not Edna. Shania.

She's native. I wonder how she knows Lady? Looking ahead at the silent woman in blue and silver, her back-side an enticement, I wonder where she has been, what she has done and, more importantly, where she is going. It's not like I care, really. I don't have anywhere else to go. But damn! If she's making enemies, I should know about them; to protect her. To _kill_ them.


End file.
